


Friendly neighbourhood SpiderMan

by Mother_of_Dragons



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Gen, Peter is kinda sad in this one, Title In Progress, too many italics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_of_Dragons/pseuds/Mother_of_Dragons
Summary: You have just about enough left from your bonus (after taxes and general expenses) to afford the rent of the recently vacated - and infinitely nicer - apartment on the floor above yours, but you have to be out by nighttime.The lift chooses this opportune moment to break down, none of your friends are available last minute to help you lug your heavier items up the stairs and your choice not to call movers is a matter of pride over practicality. Luckily, your aloof neighbour is here to lend a helping hand.





	1. Moving

He'd gone toe to toe with New York's greatest villains time and time again, devoted the past 22 years of his life to protecting its citizens and - _hell_ \-  even played a part in stopping the multiverse from imploding! Peter B. Parker would not be bested, today or otherwise, by a piece of furniture!  
  
At that thought, he uses the last burst of his energy to maneuver and drop the couch in question into place, letting out a groan that he hopes doesn't sound quite so pathetic as he rises and promptly feels his back crack in _eight_ different places.  
  
The howl he lets out is both indescribable yet undeniably animal in its timbre, and you rush in - boxes forgotten in the hallway - just as he slumps against the arm of the couch and slides, back first, onto the floor.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
It's a stupid question, and he's _clearly_ not 'okay', but he replies nonetheless with an audibly strained "Just peachy" as he stares up at the faint water stain on your new ceiling, blinking rapidly to quell the tears he can feel bubbling.  
  
"Can I get you anything?" You ask (an ingrained reflex from years of waitressing), wringing your hands to get rid of some of your nervous energy as you crouch by his side.  
  
"A new back?"  
  
It takes you a second to realise that he's joking and another of your slightly dumbfounded staring before Peter realises that this maybe isn't the best time for ~~shitty~~  jokes and digs into the pockets of his sweatpants for his keys.  
  
"I have some medicine in my bathroom, it's the first door on the left"  
  
You don't have to be told twice.  
  
Keys in hand, you rush out of your apartment, taking the stairs two at a time until you reach his floor and unlock the door that corresponds with the number on his key chain, trying your best not to trip over the knick knacks scattered across the floor as you enter the bathroom.  
  
It's little messy (okay, _a lot_ messy) but that's the least of your worries as you try to sort through the medicine cabinet by only the intermittently flickering light, pushing aside container after container of seemingly heavy duty prescriptions until you spot the anti-inflammatory pain relief gel and head back to your apartment.  
  
When you get back, he makes an abrupt comment about how he "Might have caused that" which makes you look up at the stain, remembering the corresponding dark mark on his bathroom carpet and smile.  
  
"Well, at least we're even"  
  
That makes him laugh a little, at least until his back starts up again and it turns into a groan.  
  
You uncap the gel and help him roll over, lifting up his shirt as far as it will go before you massage it gently into his - surprisingly taut - muscles, thinking absently about how weird it is that you're lowkey feeling up a neighbour that you've had for close to a year, had never spoken to and probably never would have were it not for today. Hell, you don't even know his name.  
  
Maybe it's time you introduced yourself?  
  
At that moment, a loud snore rings out and you realise that he's been asleep for the past 5 minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I watched Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse for the first time yesterday & I absolutely loved it, so I ended up typing this after perusing some fics.
> 
> Now for the mandatory self-deprecation; I know that this isn't that great, and I tried to squeeze too much into it (as seen by the bio which isn't mentioned in the fic at all), but I'm debating whether or not to turn this into a chapter fic? Idk where I'm going to go with it, but the idea is certainly appealing.
> 
> As for my other fics, I have several on the come up, but only one brain cell to spare so my ideas are probably repetitive and boring. That said, if you'd like to request anything, my tumblr is in my profile.
> 
> On another note, I didn't explicitly mention the reader's gender (apart from the gendered term 'waitressing'?), but I don't know if that neutrality will remain if I continue this as a series. We'll see.
> 
> Finally, thanks so much for reading this and constructive comments of all kinds are definitely welcome in the comments!


	2. Hanukkah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make your neighbour some wholesome treats.

It's a few days later and you're standing outside his apartment, one hand poised to knock, the other holding onto some precariously stacked tupperware full to the brim (respectively) with latkes and misshapen cookies. 

Finally, you take a deep breath and knock, straightening up your appearance as best you can as you wait for him to answer the door. 

A minute passes, and then another and _another_ with no response, and you're in the process of bending down to leave the tupperware by his door - glad that you'd had enough foresight to write a note in case he wasn't in - when you hear a crash from inside, followed by a particularly loud expletive and the door is wrenched open. 

You stare at each other for a moment (you, shocked & him panting slightly) before you straighten up to eye level and hand him the still warm containers, explaining - somewhat lamely - that you "hadn't gotten the chance to apologise properly last time" when you're met with a confused expression. 

" _Happy Hanukkah_ "

His voice is low, almost sore sounding, and he has to stop to clear his throat as he reads out the post-it affixed to the lid. 

"How did you--?" 

"I recognised the mezuzah on the door" You reply with a nonchalant shrug, noticing for the first time just how ~~rough~~ tired he looks, and the red that rims his eyes. 

"They're vegan, if that matters. I'm trying it for a month, plus I wasn't sure if you had any intolerances and I didn't want to add 'poisoning you' to the growing list of-- Sorry, I'm rambling" You let out in one breath, anxious to break the silence that had descended upon the hallway. He doesn't seem to mind. 

When he thanks you, his tone is undeniably sincere in a way which alludes that this might mean more to him than he's letting on and automatically prompts a response from you in the form of a (slightly self-deprecating) joke about your cooking in an attempt to lighten the mood, shortly followed by a thinly veiled excuse to leave as the conversation draws to its natural close. 

He thanks you again and you brush of the feeling that maybe - just maybe - you'd shared a 'moment' with a faux bashful "aw, shucks" (hand movements included), which immediately makes you want to shrivel up and die inside (but he sorta, kinda smiles at, nonetheless), before you make an abrupt turn and head downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm nOt SuRe i'M eVEn gOiNG tO CoNTinUe tHis"
> 
> *Sigh*
> 
> Anyways, it seems that I have regressed back into not only a writing style that I'm not proud of, but the stubborn aversion to planning ahead that comes with it. Oh well. 
> 
> Comments are, as always, appreciated :)


End file.
